


They Call You A Traitor.

by PlacentaMilk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt, F/F, First Meetings, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23765770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlacentaMilk/pseuds/PlacentaMilk
Summary: we will remind them who we were.
Relationships: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	They Call You A Traitor.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been sitting on this for...four months? I was originally going to write more but I'm tired of sitting on it. I might add more chapters, or add extra parts at some point, but who knows. I really just wanted this out of the vault.

_**They call you a traitor.** _

_In the darkness, Widowmaker sits on her haunches, yellow piercing eyes gazing down at the necklace in her hand. A single gold bullet hangs from the thread, sparkling, glittering in the dark._

_Behind her a girl whimpers to herself. She sits naked, haphazardly sprawled across the cold floor, her long ebony hair tangled in front of her face and flowing to the floor to pool in black shades. Tears streak down her pale cheeks but don't get too far before she wipes them away vigorously, rubbing her skin as if she could wash away the saltwater stained on it._

_we will remind them who we were, she whispers in a broken voice, quiet in the large and empty space. Always quiet._

**_You and I are not the same._ **

_Widowmaker grips the necklace tightly before lowering it and looking over her shoulder to the broken girl shaking behind her. The girl hunches further in on herself at the feeling of eyes burning a hole into the back of her skull, her fair ivory skin stretching thin over the knobs of her spine. When she inhales, the skin tightens in between the spaces of her ribs, but she does not respond. Waiting for the next blow._

**_Do you hear me, Amélie? They will never trust you._ **

_Amélie sobs into her hands, wrists folding to press the blunt palms into her ever-leaking eyes. She folds like origami, no longer even trying to sit up. Widowmaker looks down on her, neither in pity nor judgement, unable to pass either. **We can never go back** , she says, and Amélie nods because she knows. She chants the words like a prayer, i know, i know, i know._

_She hugs the ground as if asking it to swallow her, and everyday her cold counterpart thinks the ground responds, only a little bit. Everyday Amélie shakes and cowers a little bit more, and everyday Widowmaker watches as her shaking hands turn just the tiniest bit more translucent, sinking slowly into the ground. Disappearing._

_The ground will swallow her whole, and maybe one day, it will swallow the cold and empty broken shell she's been made into as well. Amélie will die, cowering and broken. No one will remember her aside from the cold woman crouched behind her, but eventually, she will forget too. And when Widowmaker dies, because she will, there will be no one left to watch._

_'At least you have someone to watch your last moments,' Widowmaker thinks, but she knows that's just Amélie's thoughts echoing off of her own. It sounds like sympathy, something the void left in Widowmakers chest has no room for._

The lights flicker on and Widowmaker opens her eyes to the dim light. It gets brighter as the seconds pass as to not blind her, until it's eventually turned all the way up. She's been sitting in the dark for hours now. Waiting for everyone else in the base to wake up. For the lights to turn on signal morning, for her door to unlock. Room. Cell. Is there a difference?

She slips on her brand-name Talon tshirt and leggings. It's Tuesday. Dr. O'Deorain will be waiting for her in her office, and Widowmaker knows to be early. Early enough to not be late but late enough to not piss Dr. O'Deorain off. A delicate balance that Widowmaker has no trouble dancing on. Amélie used to be a dancer, right?

"Hello, Ms. Lacroix. Did you sleep well?" Asks the woman with cropped orange hair, a clipboard already in her lap when Widowmaker walks in. She doesn't know why the doctor insists on using Amélie's last name. Widowmaker is the name seared into her brain. The name born of pain and fear and blood. Amélie cannot survive in the world Widowmaker was forced to be born in. Why continue to pretend like she can?

As she thinks it, she can already imagine shaking hands sinking further into the floor, midnight black hair following and floating down. Suddenly, like deja vu, she's reminded of long purple nails and an alabaster hand pushing her head underwater, down, down, down. Until she forgets her name, until she forgets who she is. Forgets that she's alive.

Golden eyes flick to the Doctors hands for a split second before focusing back on her face. "Fine."

_

_when i was a girl, i had a fear of spiders, Amélie speaks up one day, her voice quiet in the dark echoes of her mind. Widowmaker glances at her out of the corner of her eye, sees that Amélie is sitting up a bit straighter today. Her head is bent down to the ground still, she refuses to meet Widowmakers eyes or even look in her direction, but she isn't clutching at the ground today._

_i was told that they feel no emotion, she says. that their hearts never beat._

_Widowmaker can see the memory, hazy and faded around the edges, a muddled picture that she struggles to remember. She's a little girl, around five or six, playing in her mothers garden. The Venice estate her mother owned was large and luxurious, crystalline chandeliers hanging in the main foyer, marble stairs leading towards the upper floors and expensive fur rugs carefully laid out on the ground._

_It's... early in the morning. She vaguely remembers because she always had ballet practice at 10, and before then she would be allowed to play in the gardens after breakfast. Mother is somewhere, probably pruning her rose bushes, when suddenly something black catches Amélie's eye. On her mother's dahlias lies a black widow, curled up as if dead._

_She shrieks at the sight of it and tumbles backwards, the red hourglass on its butt vibrant against the black. "Amé?" her mother calls out with worry, and she's quick to get up and go running towards her mothers voice._

_"Mama, there was a spider!" she cries, thick tears welling up in her eyes when she finally finds her mother. The two walk back towards the dahlias, Amélie hiding behind her mothers leg when she points out the black widow._

_"Did you touch it?" her mother asks, kneeling down to get a closer look at the spider. Amélie shakes her head vigorously, watching nervously as her mother picks up a stick to poke at the thing. It doesn't move from its curled up position. "It's dead, cherié. Never touch these spiders, okay?"_

_"What kind of spider is it?" Amélie asks, biting on her lip. A nervous habit._

_"A black widow. These spiders are cruel, and they hurt a lot."_

_"Why do they do that?"_

_Her mother shrugs and pushes the dead spider off of her dahlias with the stick, onto the dirt below them. "They feel no emotion, Amé. Their hearts don't beat."_

_"Never?"_

_"Never."_

The car comes to a sudden stop, the lights flickering on overhead. She opens her eyes to find the driver looking back at her from his seat, nodding at her gaze when she turns to him. It's time to go.

She makes a swift exit from the car and immediately uses her grapple hook to swing up to the rooftops. They had dropped her off in a back alley, almost half a mile away from where her target is. It isn't a problem, she's less likely to be seen from the rooftops until she gets there.

It's her first real mission alone, and she can feel her dead heart stutter once at the thought of completing it. Her target is Mondatta, an omnic monk, here in Kings Row to preach about the Iris or something like that. Widowmaker doesn't care.

The streets below start to get crowded as she draws near, omnics and humans alike chanting Mondatta's name. There's signs and posters, almost like they're protesting the preacher himself, but no, they're all standing with him.

He's heavily guarded, she easily spots seven armed guards on the rooftops from where she's standing, and she knows there will be more, never mind those on the ground.

Dr. O'Deorain's words echo in her mind. 'You can only subdue them, the only target you can kill is Mondatta himself.' An experiment, of sorts. Widowmaker assumes it's to test if she can truly follow orders without supervision.

Taking out the first guard is easy. He doesn't see or hear her, so she sneaks up on him to strangle him, her arm tightly wound around his neck. He fights for a minute before eventually going slack in her arms, unconscious. She let's him fall to the ground before stepping over him, her golden eyes sweeping over the nearest rooftops.

The rest are on their earpieces, all probably checking in with each other as they focus on the commotion below. She shoots out her grapple hook towards the second guard, it taking hold in the chimney right beside him. When he turns to look at her in surprise, she runs forward and turns to elbow him in the face, quickly using that split second of confusion to twist behind him and lock her arms around his neck to pull him down to the ground. He's strong, though, and he squirms out of her arms. Before he can stand up or call for backup, she's already on her feet and bashing the butt of her gun into his temple.

She knows she's limited on time, and she takes a quick look over her shoulder to make sure she hasn't been spotted by the other guards patrolling.

Being in the clear, she walks forward towards the edge of the building, glancing down on the streets below. She'll have a narrow shot from here, but it's better than trying to take on more guards just to get closer. Widowmaker pulls on her grapple hook, assuring that it's still stuck in the chimney before wrapping the cord around her ankle. With one last look at the streets below, she takes a breath and dives off the building.

She twists as she gracefully falls, her left leg caught up in the wire of her hook to assure she doesn't fall to her death, and her right foot tightly trapping the wire against her calve to make sure she doesn't unravel. Bringing up Widow's Kiss and knocking her visor down over her eyes at the same time, she aims down the scope through the window of the next building, aiming directly at Mondatta's head.

The visor zooms in further and further, affirming her target and opening up six different cameras to show the area surrounding her. She takes a breath, her finger on the trigger. The taste of death is already on her tongue, delicious and heavy, but then she hears the air being disturbed abruptly around her, sees the flash of bright blue on one of the cameras.

Widowmakers gaze snaps away from her gun and her helmet raises up. A petite woman all but bounces off of the neighbouring building and starts shooting at her, so she unlocks her legs and lets herself unwind from the grapple hook, suddenly falling. She aims Widow's Kiss towards the woman and fires three shots as she falls, missing each one on purpose as her mind starts blaring red. Who turned on the fucking sirens?

Turning in the air, she uses the grapple wire to swing herself forward into the building she had just jumped off of moments prior, using her heels to kick past the glass window.

The grapple detaches itself from above and snaps back into her brace while she turns to look out of the broken window. The petite woman lands on her feet on the other buildings terrace, and when she looks up at Widowmaker, she's smirking. "Tryin' to crash another party love?" she asks, and Widowmaker has no idea what the woman with a shock of brown, spiky hair is talking about but she doesn't have a chance to think it over as the woman suddenly blinks across the gap between the buildings, right up in her face.

_Amélie gasps deep inside her mind and sits straight up, a pale ivory hand suddenly turning and slapping onto Widowmaker's left wrist, clutching and holding there tightly, broken and chipped nails digging into the blue skin._

It's the first time Amélie has touched her, and the blaring red sirens only grow louder. Something akin to panic rises in Widowmaker's chest.

Blood rushes in her ears as she starts firing at the woman, using her grapple hook to fly up through the stairwell. The girl easily dodges all of her bullets, the blue light left in her wake as she blinks past them and up the stairs.

When they're back on the rooftops, Widowmaker is already waiting for the girl with her gun locked on the door.

_"No!" Amélie yells, broken, the first time she's used her voice since Widowmaker was created. "Not her!"_

_Chipped and broken nails break skin, drawing sluggish red liquid. The first time she's hurt Widowmaker, hurt her enough to draw blood._

She pulls the trigger and keeps it held down as the other bursts out through the doors. None of them hit - again - but at least for now she has the girl pinned in a tight spot. She reloads for a second, hearing the girl say something like "Mondatta's in danger!" It's not good, her alerting the other guards like that.

Every shot she shoots at the girl misses, which is jarring enough in itself, and even more so for the fact that it's _Amélie_ making her miss. So Widowmaker turns and starts running-

And dives right off the roof.

It's easy to use her grapple hook to pull herself to the next one, and she takes down guards as she goes, shooting, kicking, and bashing her way through the men that stand in her path. She doesn't have a lot of time, so she clicks her visor back down over her eyes and uses the infra-red sight to isolate Mondotta's figure through the building in front of her.

She knows the brunette is still following her, so she plants a venom mine - _Amélie turns to look at Widowmaker for the first time, wide, tearful blue eyes begging her not to do it_ \- and feels conflicting emotions when she hears the hiss of the capsule bursting. She turns to watch as the girl falls to a skidding halt, coughing her lungs out as she inhales the poison.

Stalking forward - _Amélie is shaking with anger, with fear_ \- she plants her foot on the woman's shoulder and digs in, aiming her gun down at the brunette. "Such a sweet, foolish girl," Widowmaker almost snarls, the flash of anger so sudden that she nearly fails to get a grip on it, and right as she's about to fire the bullet the blue light coming from the device strapped to the girl's chest starts glowing brighter, and she's sliding back against the ground, her body being pulled up as if by imaginary hands.

She pops back into existence and dodges the venom smoke. "What's that?" she says cockily, unloading her clip at the steam vent behind Widowmaker.

The steam bursts and goes up in a cloud around the sniper, getting rid of her most essential sense. Sight.

She can hear, though, and she hears something hurling her way so she turns, and right through a plume of white she sees it. A bomb.

Widowmaker shoots it immediately, the blast knocking both women off of the building.

_Amélie screams this time, when Widowmaker knocks the scope of her gun up and peers through it, locking onto the chronal accelerator on the brunette's chest._

**_She will live._ **

True to Widowmaker's word, the girl that suddenly breathed life into the dying, crumpled woman inside of her mind lives. _lena, Amélie supplies weakly, waterfalls raining from her dark eyes._

Lena reverses back in time once more right as Widowmaker pulls the trigger, and the bullet passes through the now empty space Lena's body had been a second before, finding it's home in the skull of Mondotta.

The two land on a nearby roof, Widowmaker landing gracefully and holding her gun up to the sky, deciding not to point it at a frantic Lena who's patting her chest to make sure that yes, she's still alive.

"Looks like the party is over," Widowmaker smiles hautily again, against the pounding of Amélie's emotions beating against her skull, feeling the essence of life beat through her body at the thrill of the kill.

Lena looks at her, then quickly her expression morphs into disbelief and fear, worry. She skids over to the edge of the rooftop, looking down on the crying people below. "No, no, no" she mumbles. The fear and the disbelief quickly turn into anger and suddenly she's barreling at Widowmaker, knocking the two to the ground. They roll for a second, and the only thing that stops them is Widowmaker's grappling hook shooting into a brick wall and jerking them to a stop. Lena straddles Widowmaker's legs and has her hands pressed to the girls shoulders, her head hanging off the edge of the roof.

"Why?!" Lena shouts, shoving the girl beneath her even though she has no where to go. "Why would you do this?"

She can see it now, a small fighter jet coming towards them. Standard talon vehicle. Widowmaker laughs then, in Lena's face, and when the roaring sound of the jet captures Lena's attention, Widowmaker surges forward to grab her by the collar of her jacket. "Adieu, cherié," She says before using her strength to fling the smaller girl over her head and down to the streets below.

Launching herself backwards, she holds on tightly to the grappling hook and swings into the falling brunette, smashing her heel into the device that lets the woman rewind.

Lena lies helpless on the ground, and Widowmaker does her best to ignore Amélie's relieved yet depressed crying as she hops on Talon's jet.

_**When I was a girl, I had a fear of spiders,** Widowmaker recites perfectly, looking down at the torn skin of her arm. **I was told they felt no emotion. That their hearts never beat.**_

_Amélie's shaking shoulders slow to a stop, trying to be deathly still. Widowmaker turns on her haunches to face the crumpled girl, and when she leans down, she can hear Amélie's heartbeat, her shaky breath. She whispers in her ear, **"But I know the truth. At the moment of the kill, they are never more alive."**_


End file.
